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“Oh.”

The Code was quiet for a few seconds, but the mist had stilled somewhat, as if it had been caught off guard.

“Yes, that might be a problem.”

From the other room, the console spoke amidst the Code’s silence.

“Scanning,” the console droned, but a strange set of lights manifested on the screen before it appeared as if each picture presented had been downloaded and replicated. “Analyzing.”

For a split second, the screen distorted; the pictures began to visibly corrupt. As each pixel died, a different one replaced it. Half-images appeared in great succession, rapidly flickering from one to the next. A hundred worlds appeared and disappeared in seconds, half of them rotted out, or little more than dust and debris.

“The Calamitous Hollow. Storm of the Endless Sky. Herald of the Dark Star. The Stormborn Cataclysm.”

The computer chirped a few times; the screen went back but the ceiling began to shift rapidly. Usually, the worlds above moved at a leisurely pace. Now, they’d begun to pick up speed, as if a sudden burst of energy had supercharged it.

The Galaxy Cauldron in the center of it all dimmed.

“Status: Unknown.”

A few more strange noises and then the console corrected itself.

“Status: Approaching.”

The Code hadn’t moved, and when the console finished speaking it was as if a great weight had fallen upon it. The mist dimmed and the Code itself seemed to wilt. Slowly, as if it took great effort, it began to swirl again. After another brief pause, it spoke again.

“...That would be a serpent-like monster big enough to threaten a world, with storm or hunger,” it confirmed, but its voice was low and stiff. “A creature with a thousand names, and none at all. A celestial anomaly. I don’t know if anyone knows its true origins. Something of that calibre is not particularly easy to study. It came from the darkness and would not return. I don’t know the specifics but I do know that the Moon Kingdom kept a great deal of secrecy regarding such matters. They were often called upon to assist where there was otherwise no hope. There were several prisons made that I know of. Probably more that I don’t. If they bear any similarity to the Celestial Theatre, I would guess the Moon was involved. The star maps were used to track and chart courses for them. I suppose the specifics are lost to time. I doubt they would have entrusted that console with such secrets.”

"Oh," Kerberos said, softly.

The tableau presented, as fast as it was, made him feel suddenly very, very cold. He'd known, of course. Known the threat they had all been shown. Known that there was something horrifying on its way, a calamity of unknown proportions. But hearing those names...

"Ohh, nothing with titles instead of names is ever good news," he sighed. His eyes flicked up to that ceiling--the Code said there might be other ones, on other worlds, perhaps even in other prisons that had tried to contain this...thing. This force. This....this oncoming storm.

If the Cauldron was dimming, was that...

Well, it certainly couldn't be a good sign.

Still, Ganymede did make him briefly crack an almost-smile, because...really, how much worse could this possibly get.

"And if it's approaching..." he spoke up to ask the console, "do we have an estimate for how long we have?" Part of him didn't want to know. But they needed to know. Needed to know how much room they might have to plan. Or what they might need to do. But there had to be something. They had to have been given the knowledge they had, those strange spikes, the images, for a reason.

It couldn't be hopeless. They couldn't be doomed. There had to be a way through.

Valhalla was quiet as the console analyzed the information it was given, and still quiet as the Code spoke.

The Moon Kingdom was called to assist when there was otherwise no hope.

Who were they supposed to call when there was no Moon Kingdom?

“Other worlds might have life, but not to the magnitude of Earth. It might be drawn to us. We don’t know if there’s another world out there where Cosmos is sending starseeds to be awakened.”

He didn’t want to tell Ida, but he had very strong feelings that the world devouring serpent was already in the galaxy, heading towards their solar system.

“We had a shield,” Valhalla frowned, speaking kindly but sorrowfully in response to Ida. “But the Surrounding has been broken for a long time. And until the Senshi whose starseeds guard it are awakened, or those Senshi make themselves known again, I don’t think focusing our energy on that will be beneficial to what’s happening now.”

Another pause, and then he looked up with a curious frown as he glanced down the hallway where Ganymede and Kerberos were.

“Ganymede, do you remember when Lyndin told us about how the Surrounding was falling apart? He said the technology they had didn’t have to be a weapon. I asked then if we could use that technology as a shield like they’ve shielded Velencya. He doubted we would be able to have enough people volunteer their energy.”

Lyndin asked then if they would even accept the Velencians’ help if the Earth was threatened.

Valhalla felt as though his heart had stopped.

“Maybe we don’t need the Moon Kingdom. Maybe it’s the Velencians we need. They have the technology.”

“Queen Serenity is dead, you—” Ganymede cut herself off before she could start swearing at the console. She lifted a fist like she might bang on it but stopped herself before following through on that, too. “Ida and I are the closest you’re gonna get.”

Though she tried her best not to panic, Ganymede didn’t see much reason for hope at the moment.

Three weeks wasn’t a lot of time. Six wasn’t much better. They had to get as much information as they could. Formulate a plan. Communicate that plan with the rest of their allies. Approach the Vanguard, or the Negaverse, or both. Hope they got the help they needed. Enact whatever plan they came up with. Hope that worked. Hope they weren’t sabotaged like last time.

It wasn’t impossible. She knew that; she’d seen enough miracles to not need convincing. They’d saved themselves or been saved on countless occasions. They’d even fought alongside the Negaverse for many of them, though never with the level of intention that might be required this time. Ganymede could stomach a lot. She could shoulder more.

But there was a part of her, steeped in hate and bitterness, that thought maybe they shouldn’t bother. Maybe they should focus on saving themselves and let the Negaverse and Metallia get what was coming for them.

Ganymede took a breath. Held it. Let it out on a heavy sigh.

She left the console and drifted closer to the room where the Code resided.

“I’ll pay whatever we have to,” she said. “If it means they’ll help us. I’d hope we wouldn’t need to. They’ve lost enough without losing Earth too. They came here for help they won’t get at all if Earth is destroyed. But if it comes down to it and they want something in exchange…” If she felt guilt or shame for it, her expression lacked any indication. “I’d give them what they want.”

She’d admitted as much to Kerberos already. She’d confessed it to Valhalla years ago, after they’d had time to process what occurred on the hilltop. Caedus was one man. Earth was home to billions of people. That a choice might have to be made was abhorrent, but the choice itself was simple.

It was unsettling to hear the others had talked with the Vanguard's leader. Ida had not run into any of those strangers since they'd arrived on Earth, save for the disasterous ambush. It had felt like a terrible betrayal when they had turned their machines on them...

At least the Code seemed to feel the same way Ida did.

"We'd have to be so incredibly careful..." She said slowly, her voice guarded. "They already betrayed us once. And I'm not saying we shouldn't do the same for the Negaverse, but I'm hesitant to potentially put ourselves in their power again."

Ida glanced over as Ganymede came to join them, and lines of tension pressed themselves around her mouth.

"I am willing to do what I must to save our worlds, but I want to hear the terms before hand... I don't want to sacrifice anything or anyone if we can do it any other way. Life in this universe is so rare and precious..." Her voice went soft at the end, more to herself than to anyone else.

Wishing they had more time felt quintessentially useless. Everyone always wished for more time. More time would let them try to figure out and build something that could maybe revive or replace the surrounding... maybe something that could connect all their reawakened world into some great, protective net... but that felt impossible in the short time they had.

"Code..." Ida didn't know what else to call it, if 'the Code' was the proper name for it or not... "Do you know anything about the prisons used in the past? Or the stakes that some people got?" Kerberos had had a good idea, asking the console about it.

Would that they'd be lucky enough to already have the answer, and not need the Negaverse or the Vanguard for anything more than participation and man power.

In the other room, the console made a strange, almost dial-up noise as it processed Valhalla’s question. It reported, unimpressively, “Backup unnecessary. Probability of hypothetical question: 0.04%. Inadequate information available.”

The Code exhaled, a strangely rattly sound.

“If you want a computer that can give you answers, you’d have to get into the castle. But that isn’t possible right now. I have been hoping the Moon will recognize the Knights here as protectors and unlock what has been sealed away but there’s been no luck so far. There are backups, but they’ve been sealed away. The Moon Kingdom could not fathom a time when they would not be here to enact such things. An oversight, no doubt. But I am here and I will tell you what I can.”

There were limitations to what information the Code had; it had been housed on Earth during the fall of the Moon and then swallowed up by the Rift.

Better than a broken and fizzling console better suited to humoring tourists.

“We can hope that the Vanguardians will see reason. Their alliance with the Negaverse is practical, but not logical. While we are locked out of the records on the Moon, their technology might be advantageous. If the payment is a starseed,” the Code rumbled quietly. “Better one than a planet’s worth. One cannot assume that an eater of worlds will follow the rules of the universe. I don’t know if those starseeds would return to the Cauldron if consumed. Whether or not you can trust them, I would suppose they are the lesser evil. They are fighting to save their people. I can assume they would do anything to help us if it meant accomplishing that goal. But I will defer to those with more experience with them to make that call. Knowing the risks we face, I don’t think it’s unwise to expect the worst. Every effort should be made to prepare for this threat. Earth cannot fall. The repercussions it would have–”

The Code fell quiet.

“You must do whatever is necessary to protect the planet. I will see if there is more information I can unearth here. I have very limited knowledge of any of the old prisons. I know they exist, I know there were those who might guard them, but it isn’t like serving on a Wonder. I would not willingly place a piece of myself within close proximity of a threat that great. If you found anything there, it is safe to assume it was important in some capacity. The stakes may very well be a part of the defense mechanism. It is safe to assume they hold some purpose. They would not have been stored there otherwise. But even if you can trap the creature, what then? Will you kill it? Or do you have a plan to remove it, to build another prison and return it to space?”

Kerberos, finally, stepped away from the console--he doubted there was much more it could give them. Better to ask the sapient magical force that was far chattier, anyway.

And if he stood a little close to Ida, to take comfort from her presence, well. It wasn't exactly a large area anyway.

"Your assistance is greatly appreciated," he told the Code, because it seemed right to be respectful and because he meant it. "And I agree--the Vanguard's alliance with the Negaverse has never exactly seemed like something they're thrilled about."

And, really--Kerberos was never going to forget how proud Lyndin had looked when he'd seen that first, fluffy little Kerberan fox. That was not a man who was gladly allying with Chaos and its ever-looming world-killing tide. He wanted to believe that something even worse than that would inspire him to action.

"Honestly? Breaking into the Moon Palace isn't the worst plan we've got," Kerberos acknowledged. Some of the, strictly, more rational options were probably actually worse, in terms of danger. "If we're going to find a way to kill it--and I would absolutely much rather kill it--I'd bet there's something there."

He exhaled between his teeth.

"As for the Vanguard--I agree. Don't offer up Caedus, make them ask. But I don't have to like it to know what the best answer is." And it wasn't as if he had squeaky clean hands. "That's not the deal with the devil I'm worried about, though. I'd like to hope Lyndin will see the benefits to working with us. Valhalla, you might be best positioned to reach out, given how Knight signets work? "

No, there was someone much more dangerous they'd have to speak with.

And it probably was on him.

"I'll meet with Jet. But I won't ask you to play nice with him." Not after what Jet had done, and Kerberos knew he was only aware of some of it. "I don't want to put him on edge, any more than I want to put myself at risk, so--if I do meet him alone, I'll make sure I have people who know where I am and when I should be back. Every precaution." He didn't necessarily want to assume that Jet would betray him, but he was also a known traitor to the Negaverse and probably nobody over there's favorite person.

"I'll see if Murikabushi can talk in the morning; he's got some alien Senshi staying with him who might know something, too. Beyond that..." He nodded to Ganymede. "The more people with more diverse knowledge sets we get on this, the better."

They could do this, surely. Somehow.

Valhalla listened quietly and with a heavy heart. He’d always believed in the good in people, always believed in second chances. Always believed that there were no ‘no-win’ scenarios. There was always another option. Always the chance to preserve life rather than destroy it.

Heartbroken, Valhalla was slowly coming to realize that they might have their ‘no-win’ scenario right in front of them.

Earth cannot fall… You must do whatever is necessary to protect the planet.

He did not want to sacrifice anyone. He wished they had another option, but as the Code said… a payment of a starseed for a planet of starseeds. If they didn’t, and all died, what was the point in protecting one life? Would they be willing to sacrifice the world to… sacrifice the person they didn’t want to, anyway?

Oberon was going to hate them.

“Alright… Ida, if you could try to reach out to Caedus. And Almadel if you have a chance. I’ll try to contact Lyndin, but… I think it would be best if you met with him, Kerberos,” Valhalla said with a sympathetic glance.

“I want to see if I can check in with Remarque. I don’t know what the Dark Mirror Court can do, but I wouldn’t feel right leaving them in the dark. And then…”

He took a moment to frown.

Whatever is necessary…

“Kerberos… Try to get in touch with Jet. Ganymede and I will also work on coordinating trying to get into the Moon Palace. I think we can only get there on full moons, still. If that works for everyone… let’s keep in touch when we find anything out.”