Chapter 239: Galactic Concordat (4)

Adrian gave a quick, reassuring glance back to his people, a silent command to Nyra, Charles, and his other Vassals to maintain order. He then turned and followed the imposing, blue-skinned being.The sheer size of the arrival chamber made Adrian wonder if they were really going to walk to the end of it. But thankfully, that didn’t happen.

The being led him to a small, circular platform a short distance away, its surface a flawless, unmarked white.

"Step on it," the being commanded.

Adrian complied, and the being joined him on the platform. The moment they both stood on it, a familiar white light enveloped Adrian, but this teleportation was far more pleasant than the last.

There was no sense of his senses being annihilated, no agonizingly long duration. It was a clean transition.

Seconds later, he found his feet touching the ground once more. The shift in his mind was jarring.

It was clear that Thanad was several light-years away from this place, yet they had all been transported here with ease.

And now, it was becoming obvious that teleportation, a skill he had to use his precious [Translocation] for, was a common norm here, as casual as walking. It felt insane.

He abandoned his thoughts and focused on his new location. It was a simple, sterile, white room, cube-shaped and no larger than an office.

A single, minimalist table sat in the center with two chairs. The being gestured for him to sit, while taking the seat opposite him.

"Let us begin," the being said, his solid black eyes on the data-slate he had been holding. "Your civilization, designated Thanad, has been granted Probationary Ascension status by the authority of the Ven Key. This is a... highly irregular proceeding."

He crossed eyes with Adrian for a brief moment before tapping on the slate lightly.

"The Key has voided your sentence of annihilation for the Quarantine breach. However, it does not void your integration. The trial you would have faced has been commuted to this: you will be assimilated."

"Assimilated?" Adrian asked.

"You have been relocated to the Nexus, the central hub of the Galactic Concordat," the being explained in a bored, dispassionate tone, as if he were reading an instruction manual. "You will be assigned a habitation sector. Tier-0. You and your 6,342 citizens will be provided with one month of nutritional credits and basic life support. After that, you are on your own."

Adrian didn’t understand most of what he said, but he didn’t fail to get the last, crucial part. "On our own? What does that mean?"

"It means you must earn your way," the being said. "You will earn Galactic Credits to purchase food, energy, and resources. You will integrate. You will become a productive part of the Nexus economy. Or, your civilization will fail, your people will starve, and you will be purged. Your trial is one of survival. Welcome to the Galactic Concordat."

This was their new reality. They were no longer a kingdom. They were penniless refugees in a cosmic ghetto, their status as victors of a war rendered utterly meaningless.

Adrian, ever the analyst, immediately tried to find his footing. "What are our assets? Our skills... our magical traditions... our warriors... what are they worth here?"

The being ignored Adrian’s question and stood up, walking to a panel on the wall. A moment later, a thin, tablet-like device slid out, which he handed to Adrian. Adrian was confused at first, but recognized its resemblance to the datapad the being was holding.

He looked at it, and saw a long, scrolling list of questions.

At first glance, he could see some asking for his name, age, civilization’s primary abilities, and many other nuances. Scrolling down, he could see that there were even more questions, tens of them. It was clear they wanted to know far more than what was on the surface.

The being returned to his seat and said,

"Answer everything on the pad. There are only 4,250 questions. Leave none unanswered. Your preliminary resource allocation will be based on your answers."

Adrian, who was in the process of scrolling down the pad to see the true length of the questionnaire, had his mouth wide open when he heard the number. Four thousand, two hundred and fifty.

What made it worse was that some of the questions required long, essay-style answers, and some were just bizarre.

[Provide a 10,000-word essay on the primary philosophical justification for your civilization’s existence.]

[What is the average daily caloric intake of a non-combatant juvenile?]

[List all known deities, quasi-deities, and objects of worship, and provide a detailed analysis of their perceived impact on your society’s development.]

[What is your preferred method for resolving minor interpersonal conflicts?]

These were few of the bizarre questions on the pad. But he couldn’t refute. He was in their territory. Adrian had no other option than to purse his lips and start from the beginning.

Everything was written in the same language pack he had purchased, so it wasn’t difficult for him to understand.

A virtual keyboard appeared at his touch, and he began to type out his answers.

And that was what Adrian set off to do.

Hours passed. The white room was silent, save for the faint, rapid tapping of Adrian’s fingers on the keyboard.

He answered every question with his analytical mind. He wrote essays on political theory, detailed the entire history of the three races as he knew it, and even provided some breakdown of their powress. He of course knew what to hold back, but even the little he provided was basically handing them a complete instruction manual on his entire civilization.

When he reached the last question, hours later, sweat beaded on his forehead.

’Finally, the last one.’

[What designation would you prefer for your civilization within the Galactic Concordat registry?]

The question didn’t puzzle Adrian. He easily chose the name he had gone with in the past, a name that perfectly described their new beginning.

"Sparkborns."