Omicron Zeta. Once a system plagued by the conflict between The Order and The Core. Now, little more remained of them than the remnants of war. Both sides had left a trail of destruction, but it had not been each other who had delivered the final blow. Cairo and Capetown lay in ruins, shattered husks of their former glory. Yet still there was disappointment from the Greater minds that loitered around, observing the trail of death.
It had not been enough. The Siris meandered through what remained of their enemy while frustration welled up from within. They had failed in the purifying of every lightless being that had been within Zeta. Shadowlings had persevered, escaped to safer waters, aboard shells of Zoner origin. An escape that would give warning for what could come to pass. Angry discharges shot out from the frontal cysts, the bursts of energy obliterating a drifting wreck.
A few nearby observers, one of which an Anzu, felt the burst of fury before it impacted. After the discharge, there was a subtle pulse, an indication for the Siris warform to reserve such outbursts for those Darklings who oppose Their intents. The Siris knew to listen, the minds knew that form bore great wisdom, and gradually the hostility receeded while it scanned the remains of the Core's husk, searching for anything that could be utilised. Most of what remained was less than functional.
The system had become more serene, despite being under intense focus of the Nomads. Even in their deadly elegance, there was a silent peacefulness after the storm of destruction that swept through the sector. Many Darklings had their lives taken from them; numerous bodies floated among the twisted plates of metal alloys. Despite the evident success of their onslaught, there loitered a failing to prevent all from escaping. Those who sought to see the Light suffer had fled deep into Delta, beyond Their grasp.
A glint among the wreckage, a Data Core. Large, bulky and very much something the Enlightened could salvage and decode. Cairo had been devoid of such a prize, the Order being far faster in Their fleeing away from the Purge. Fewer bodies also drifted, only among the twisted remnants of a Resheph. A pulse towards an Enlightened shell, instruction to extract the Shadowling's secrets from within it, to share its contents with the Light.
One crept forwards, under the watchful gaze of the crystalline forms. A mechanical whirr as the cargo bay of the transport opened, short focused laser bursts to assist in dislodging the core from its resting place before the tractor beam grappled with the prize. Several moments later, the heavy resonant clang of alloy on alloy announced that the extraction was successful. Two escort ships took up defensive positions on its flank, as the smaller Nomad instructed them to proceed to Altair. They began to move away, slipping into one of Zeta’s deep green nebulae out of sight from any possible onlookers, living or otherwise.
