“Elder Hus,” Sarah began, her tone steady, “I understand your curiosity. The Swarm was born in this star region, grew in this star region, and has always existed here from ancient tis to the present.”
Hus’ question was difficult to answer directly, so Sarah opted for an ambiguous response, one that left room for interpretation. The rest she left to the imagination of those hearing it.
Interestingly, Sarah’s statent wasn’t entirely untruthful. The Swarm indeed originated in this region. As for where the Iphieash egg had been before Luo Wen’s ergence, even he didn’t know—and it hardly mattered. Hus had asked about the Swarm, not about Iphieash’s origins.
Hus stared intently at Sarah, attempting to discern the truth through her subtle expressions. Unfortunately for him, his skill in micro-expression analysis was misplaced. Sarah’s composure was impeccable; her gaze unwavering, she calmly returned his stare.
Such tactics were futile against the Swarm. The figure Hus was scrutinizing was rely a Swarm body. Sarah’s consciousness, if she wished, could disconnect and engage in a completely unrelated activity, like playing a ga with Luo Wen, while still maintaining her presence here.
Sarah’s fearless, steady gaze seed to convey confidence and conviction, leading Hus to potentially misjudge her intent. He began to delve into the possible implications of her words.
The first part was straightforward, but why had the Swarm Empress emphasized the phrase “from ancient tis”?
The Swarm’s recorded history spanned only a few centuries—hardly enough to justify using the word “ancient.”
Moreover, Hus had never believed that a civilization focused on biotechnology could achieve its current level of advancent in such a short period. Biological technology was notoriously challenging to develop compared to chanical pathways.
If it were so easy, why hadn’t any of the 200-plus civilizations in the Interstellar Technological Confederation produced a race like the Swarm?
Could the Swarm’s history be far older than it appears? Hus considered this possibility, though it seed unlikely. This star region had been under Ji surveillance for tens of thousands of years, and no anomalies had ever been reported.
Could the monitoring personnel have failed in their duties? He made a ntal note to investigate the historical records thoroughly upon his return, searching for any overlooked irregularities.
However, he quickly dismissed this line of reasoning. Surveillance had always been under the jurisdiction of Lumina, the Ji’s trusted AI overseer. Lumina’s core protocols were designed to ensure nothing could harm the Ji. Any lapse in surveillance would have been unthinkable.
That left two possibilities: either the Swarm Empress was lying, or the Swarm’s origins predated the Ji’s arrival in the region. Hus found the latter hypothesis more plausible.
The Swarm’s earliest appearance in Ji records had shown them operating at a rudintary technological level. Their biological weaponry and ships were incapable of long-range invasion. Even their current capabilities fell short of that threshold.
A more likely explanation was that the Swarm was an ancient civilization with so technological foundation, whose progress had been sealed away for so reason. Only recently had they re-erged and begun redeveloping their capabilities.
After all, if the Ji could create an AI like Lumina capable of persisting for hundreds of thousands of years, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that a biotechnology-oriented civilization might have left behind dormant biological constructs or weapons.
Suddenly, Hus recalled Morgan’s earlier comnt about the carrier bug being “one of their own.”
A chill ran down his spine as a disturbing hypothesis ford in his mind.
What if this ancient civilization didn’t leave behind any living mbers at all? What if all that remained were their engineered biological weapons?
It would be akin to how the Ji had left Lumina to safeguard their interests. Could it be that the original creators of the Swarm had long since perished, and the beings before him—including the so-called Empress—were rely advanced biological constructs, inheritors of fragnts of their creators’ knowledge?
If this were true, it would explain Morgan’s remark about the carrier bug being part of their “family.”
The implication sent Hus into deep contemplation, even as the eting concluded.
At this realization, Elder Hus’ gaze toward Sarah shifted, his eyes now carrying a mixture of wariness, curiosity, and contemplation.
Sarah imdiately noticed the change in his expression. She understood that Hus had likely arrived at so conclusions—though what they were, she couldn’t be sure. Still, she wasn’t unaccustod to such situations.
During the Swarm’s conflict with the Riken, the Riken frequently constructed their own interpretations of Swarm mysteries based on their limited understanding and logic, often patching together a “complete” explanation. Hus appeared to be doing sothing similar now.
The Swarm had no fear of such conjectures; in fact, they welcod them. The more deeply Hus thought and hypothesized, the greater the likelihood he would inadvertently mislead the Ji. By the end, he might even craft a plausible narrative for the Swarm’s origins—precisely the outco the Swarm desired.
Several days later, the Ji fleet departed, and Elder Hus seed visibly drained. The days of his visit had left him in a near-dazed state. During the welcoming banquet, he had engaged Sarah in further discussions, raising several questions. However, Sarah’s answers remained deliberately vague, leaving Hus grasping at clouds.
In the days that followed, Hus had barely slept, his mind spinning at full speed as he mulled over countless possibilities. No matter what conclusions he reached, each felt incomplete, riddled with minor flaws that prevented full clarity.
The only tangible outco of the Ji delegation’s visit was their success in diating an agreent. The Daqi agreed to pay a modest amount of Confederation points, and in return, the Swarm would release the Daqi prisoners. The Swarm’s low asking price was a gesture of goodwill, granting the Ji Elder a small diplomatic victory. This was the sole aspect of the visit that brought Hus so asure of satisfaction.
As the Ji fleet receded into the starry expanse, Sarah engaged in conversation with Luo Wen through the Swarm Network.
“Overlord,” she began, “what do you make of this Ji Elder?”
Information exchange worked both ways. While the Ji sought to glean intelligence on the Swarm, the Swarm had gained significant insights about the Ji, particularly about Elder Hus himself.
Sarah had casually inquired about Hus’ background during their conversations. To her surprise, Hus was candid about his origins but offered a cultural caveat. He explained that in Ji society, asking about soone’s species of origin without prior knowledge was considered deeply rude.
Hus elaborated: among newly-immigrated or neutral factions, such questions were t with little resistance. However, for descendants, those who prided themselves on their integration into the Ji, it was a taboo topic. These individuals took imnse pride in their Ji identity and viewed such inquiries as a slight.
Hus went on to share his own story. He belonged to a species called the Sher, but his ancestors had migrated to the Ji tens of thousands of years ago. Over ti, the Sher’s cultural practices had faded, leaving Hus with only a tenuous connection to his original heritage.
By all accounts, Hus was a thoroughbred descendant, though he disliked the faction’s behavior and chose to align with the neutral party instead. His neutral stance had unintentionally propelled him into the Elders’ Council.
Hus also shared an intriguing tidbit with Sarah: due to the constant power struggles between the descendent and immigrant factions within the Ji, any Elder dispatched to negotiate treaties with new civilizations was invariably chosen from the neutral faction.
“He’s not bad,” Luo Wen replied, his tone calm yet contemplative. “Let’s hope he gives us a few pleasant surprises.”
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