(From)

First Contact - Cimmerians

Book Seven

Chapter One

Robert said, “I think we need to push them deeper into the memory.”

Sustainer replied, “There is a great risk in doing that. They may turn on our fleet.”

“I know. But… something is telling me that we need to do this. Our fleet can see through any illusions they’ll throw at us. We have our moonbeam as a last resort. We can defend ourselves now.”

Sustainer nodded, replying, “You’ve learned well, Admiral. I trust your instincts. I will do as you wish.”

The stars themselves seemed to pause as Sustainer extended the threads of memory deeper into the minds of the Hyperians. The vision of Virelia, luminous and unchanging, expanded from the collective awareness of those already swayed, reaching out to those still wrenched by doubt. Golden spires shimmered under twin suns, the light reflecting in endless prisms across bridges and plazas. The city breathed, as if alive with the understanding of all who had once walked its streets.

This was heaven to the Hyperians. In the minds of the Hyperians, the memory became tangible. They could feel the warmth of the sun, the solidity of the bridges beneath their feet, and the cadence of unity in every motion around them. This was not just a vision; it was an echo of a time before ambition had twisted their purpose, before pride had fractured their people.

White-aligned ships pulsed in their formation, guided not by fear, not by command, but by a shared understanding of what they had once been.

The red-resistant wedge, previously fractured and chaotic, wavered as fragments of recollection began to pierce their skepticism. Even the most defiant among them felt the pull of a truth long denied. That pull was the Hyreth heritage of order, wisdom, and balance.

Within the memory, Sustainer’s presence was subtle but undeniable. His form moved like a shadow at the edge of perception, a gentle guide rather than a commander. And standing alongside him were figures the Hyperians recognized not merely with their eyes, but with the certainty of memory. Admiral Robert Chris, Princess Coralia, and Ellie. They were not there to direct, but to witness, to anchor the memory in the reality of what the Hyperians had once known.

Voices rose in the shared consciousness, fragments of thought and emotion that intertwined across the fleets. Questions, doubts, and acknowledgments all mixed as the divided minds struggled to reconcile the vision with their present reality.

“This… this is real,” one captain of a white-aligned ship whispered through the telepathic resonance, almost to himself. “I remember… I remember this place. I remember who we were.”

A red-resistant officer barked in disbelief, sending ripples of agitation through his wedge. “Lies! You are all deceived! This is some trick, a manipulation meant to fracture us!”

But the memory held firm. Each detail, each nuance, each echo of long-forgotten recognition strengthened the thread of truth. Bridges that seemed impossibly constructed in the minds of some were felt as real and familiar by others.

Statues of ancient Hyreth leaders glimmered with the weight of history, and plazas echoed with the laughter and deliberations of a people once united.

Slowly, imperceptibly, the divisions began to blur. The Hyperians who had resisted, who had held onto fear and suspicion, now felt an inexplicable tug. This resonance stretched across space, across the stars, reaching into their very consciousness. They could not entirely reject what they had felt. Every attempt to dismiss it only strengthened the memory, like sunlight pushing through the edges of storm clouds.

Sustainer shifted the currents of perception with exquisite care, weaving the threads of memory through each mind. It was not force or compulsion, but instead it was an invitation. The Hyperians could choose, and yet every choice led them back to the clarity of their heritage.

The white-aligned fleets began to communicate more urgently, their thought-forms weaving together as they reached across gaps in space. “We must gather them,” one captain said. “All of them. We are stronger united.”

Doubtful voices from the red wedge hesitated. The resistance of suspicion still lingered, but the memory of Virelia was too vivid, too undeniable. A young officer, barely twenty standard cycles into command, felt the truth of his ancestors press against his mind. His hesitation broke, and he sent a pulse through the comm channels:

“I… I accept it. It is true. We have lost our way, but this is who we are meant to be. Let us join them.”

The response from the white fleet was immediate, a chorus of acknowledgment. One by one, hesitant threads of the red faction began to unravel. Yes, arguments persisted, and skepticism did not vanish immediately, but the momentum of recognition could not be denied.

Sustainer deepened the memory further, allowing the Hyperians to see not just the city of Virelia, but the principles that had guided it. Councils convened in the streets, not in chaos, but in discussion and debate.

Leaders rose not for power, but to serve. Knowledge was shared freely, carefully, and with respect for all voices. The Hyperians began to sense the harmony they had once embodied, the balance that had been their birthright.

Ellie’s calm measured voice resonated in Robert’s mind as he observed the transformation. “Admiral, they are beginning to coordinate. I can feel their thoughts. It’s as though they remember their purpose.”

Robert’s jaw relaxed slightly, though tension remained. “Sustainer, this is more than I imagined. The resistance is melting… not because we forced it, but because they chose to see it.”

Coralia’s eyes glimmered with bioluminescent approval. “They’re recognizing each other. The Hyreth unity is returning. Even the most stubborn… they can feel the truth.”

Through Sustainer, the memory expanded. Hyperians across the stars could see the shared history of their people, feel the connection that had been severed by millennia of pride, ambition, and conflict. They sensed the weight of every decision that had strayed them from the path, and they recognized the potential to set it right.

The mental currents flowed outward, linking ships and fleets, weaving a tapestry of awareness.

The resistance weakened further as more red-aligned vessels joined the recognition, their thought-forms merging with the white-aligned currents.

The Hyperians were no longer two factions. They were one, a single consciousness in purpose, even if still separate in individuality.

“Keep going, Sustainer,” Robert said. “Push the memory. Let them feel it. Let them choose together.”

Sustainer’s form rippled faintly as he extended the thread further, drawing each mind deeper into the experience. Bridges of understanding connected every officer, every pilot, every captain. Arguments softened into debate, debate into discussion, and discussion into coordinated action.

Finally, the pause came.

Across the void, a collective breath seemed to settle. The Hyperians’ fleets aligned, not in arbitrary formation, but in a deliberate, purposeful arrangement, reflecting the unity they had once held. They had remembered who they were.

Robert exhaled slowly, glancing at Coralia. “It’s done. They see themselves again. All of them.”

“Yes,” Sustainer murmured. “They are aligned with their true selves. The memory has taken root. The path is clear. Now, they will act not as divided factions, but as a single people.”

In the void beyond, the red and white points of light no longer clashed.

Their focus was no longer inward, no longer fractured by fear or pride. They were awake.

And somewhere deep in the Hyperians' consciousness, a connection flickered… one that reached beyond the immediate space of battle, touching those they had left behind, a network of awareness that would soon reveal the wider universe beyond.

***

The memory’s threads stretched outward, finer and more intricate than the smallest filaments of a spider’s web, bridging light-years in a span that should have been impossible. The Hyperians, unified now by the deep currents of Virelia, felt a pull beyond their immediate surroundings. It was a tug at the edges of their awareness, or perhaps a whisper of a larger, unfolding truth.

Minds that had once been scattered across the void, chasing their own fears and ambitions, were now drawn to a distant theatre of struggle, far beyond the stars they occupied.

Across the vastness of space, the Hyperians sensed it first as a stirring, a vibration in their species' awareness. The image came unbidden, unrequested, yet it was impossible to ignore.

They saw through the eyes of memory, yet it was more vivid than memory could ever hope to be. The nebula's clouds on the far side of Asgardian space glowed in muted reds and deep crimsons, stars pierced through in sharp pinpoints, and upon this cosmic canvas, a new threat emerged.

All the Hyperians saw this vision replace what they had seen before. Virelia was gone from their vision, and hell had replaced it. Even Robert, Ellie, Princess Coralia, and Sustainer could see it.

A massive formation of dark, sleek, angular shapes moved with lethal coordination. These were the Cimmerians, their bodies humanoid yet alien, elongated in silhouette, draped in armor that absorbed the red nebula light.

Their weapons were strange, firing streams of concentrated plasma that seared the vacuum itself, leaving crimson trails that lingered like liquid ribbons of fire.

The Hyperians’ minds could sense the cold intent behind the attacks, the single-minded unity of a species raised in harsh, red-light worlds, hardened against every other life-form.

From the Asgardian fleet came a swarm of buzzing, metallic exoskeletons, each movement precise, coordinated, a fractal dance of ships with limbs and wings. Energy pulse beams leapt from the tip of every Asgardian ship, striking the incoming Cimmerians, who had emerged from their nebula, one hundred twenty light-years distant, with searing arcs of blue light. The strikes caused explosions that blossomed like fireworks against the black void, fragments of metal and energy scattering into the star-lit emptiness.

The Hyperians, in Antillian space, who had just been at each other's throats, after their mind attack against the human-led alliance, were watching the battle in their minds’ eye and felt the tremor of each impact through their consciousness. The shockwave of purpose and determination resonated across their fleet, even from a vast distance across space.

After attacking the Asgardian fleets, the Hyperians had left part of their fleet behind to continue the attack on the Asgardians, while the remainder had come to Antillian space to confront the Alliance fleet. Those ships that were left behind in Asgardia, had now joined with the Asgardians in an uneasy alliance against the invading Cimmerians.

Their own weapons unleashed torrents of coherent energy, beams of pure white and gold cutting through the darkness, slicing the enemy lines like scythes through wheat. Ships twisted in formation, banking and spinning with a grace born of instinct and unity. The Hyperians in Asgardian space were also attempting to create illusions in the minds of the Cimmerians, but to their dismay, they were unsuccessful. The fighting would be conventional and not one fought in the mind.

Sustainer’s presence in the memory was subtle but undeniable. His form wove among the combatants like a ghost of authority, a guiding force that whispered of tactics, timing, and trust. Hyperian captains felt his nudges, hints of insight that let them anticipate Cimmerian strikes before they came, to dodge, weave, and return fire with perfect cadence.

The Hyperians at the edge of the memory could feel the pulse of their people’s confidence surging through the vision, the harmony of thought linking the fleets together. The ancient memories coming back to the Hyperians couldn’t have come at a better time, for they weren’t only affecting the Hyperians in the Antillian system, but all Hyperians wherever they might be!

An Asgardian dreadnought launched a volley of spiked drones into the thick of the Cimmerian formation. Each drone tore through enemy hulls, detonating in brilliant blue-and-white flashes that left the Cimmerians staggering under the relentless assault.

Another Asgardian carrier released a cloud of swarming interceptors, small but deadly, darting through space with preternatural speed, disrupting Cimmerian ranks. The Hyperians watching could almost sense the smell of ionized metals and the tension of the vacuumed void.

The Cimmerians responded with terrifying precision. A squadron of sleek assault frigates split from the main body, banking sharply to flank the Asgardians.

From their armor-mounted arrays, bolts of red-hot plasma lanced outward, detonating against shields and hulls, causing ships to tumble in slow motion as energy arcs danced across their frames.

Yet each strike was met with countermeasures, in the form of energy nets, gravity pulses, and rapid-fire disruptors, set by the unified Hyperians and their Asgardian allies.

The Hyperians who had once resisted now gasped in mental resonance. Every captain could see the exact point where the tides of battle might turn, every flaw in formation, every calculated gamble. They felt the fear of the Asgardians, the cold determination of the Hyperians, and the merciless intent of the Cimmerians all at once. And yet, the memory of Virelia, though no longer visible in their mind’s eye, with its golden light and calm deliberation, wove through it all, a constant reminder of who they were meant to be.

One Hyperian frigate, sleek and triangular, dove into the midst of the enemy lines, weaving between blasts and dodging plasma strikes. Its white hull glimmered under the starlight as its energy cannon fired in a precise, continuous sweep, cutting down a squadron of Cimmerian interceptors.

Around it, other Hyperian ships mirrored its movements, a wave of white and gold carving through the dark tide of the Cimmerians.

Sustainers’ influence deepened the shared vision even further. He let the Hyperians feel not just the actions but the consequences, the pride and caution, the split-second decision-making that could mean survival or annihilation.

The violet and crimson explosions of collisions painted space like an aurora, casting shadows across ships and weapons that seemed impossibly vivid.

Amid the chaos, a young Hyperian captain saw a massive Cimmerian dreadnought advance toward the center of the joint fleet. Its hull was impossibly dark, absorbing the starlight around it, its weapons firing in disciplined barrages.

The Hyperian captain’s mind raced, and he felt a thread from Sustainer brush against his thought, suggesting a path, a way to counter the threat without needless destruction.

The dreadnought met a barrage of synchronized fire from Asgardian pulse cannons and Hyperian energy beams that converged, striking in perfect unison.

The dreadnought shuddered, fire spilling across its hull, plasma arcs screaming into the void.

Every Hyperian mind in Asgardian space felt the collective pulse of the fleet, the unity of thought, as the memory of Virelia strengthened the connection. Fear diminished, replaced by a clarity of purpose. They no longer quarreled over the illusion of power or the skepticism of deception. Instead, they moved as one, their intent as sharp as the blades of energy cutting through the darkness of space.

Sustainer’s threads began to pull the Hyperians at the edge of the memory closer still, showing them not only the action but the harmony, the coordination of minds and ships, the subtle shifts in formation that made the difference between annihilation and survival.

Explosions rippled like symphonies. Plasma arcs and energy beams tracing patterns across the void that could be read, understood, and replicated.

And then, as if drawn by some unifying rhythm, the Hyperians saw it. The fleets moving in perfect concert, Asgardian swarms arcing above and below, Hyperian lines slicing through the darkness, all converging on the Cimmerian vanguard. A massive collision of fire and will erupted, the darkness punctuated by bursts of white, gold, and blue energy, painting the scene like a cosmic fresco under the distant stars of the Asgardian system.

The connection held. The memory of Virelia, the unity it inspired, and Sustainer’s gentle guidance allowed the Hyperians in Antillian space to see, feel, and understand the battle as if they were present, and not merely spectators, but participants in the flow of purpose and clarity.

Across light-years, across faction and space, the Hyperians at last understood the consequences of coordination, of unity, and of selfless action. And thus, the seed was planted. They would remember, they would act, and their species, once fractured, would rise together to not only become what they once were, but to exceed their former selves.

Thank you for reading this short excerpt from my book!

Scott Ickes