Mission Log: The Zynari – Observing the Star-Walkers

Posted on Thu Apr 3rd, 2025 @ 11:44am by Zyrani

Mission: Season 6: Echoes of the Zynari
Timeline: Ethereal Musings, Cycle 4321.7
1003 words - 2 OF Standard Post Measure

The great emptiness rippled as we wove between the fabric of the void, unseen and unfelt by the solid ones who called themselves Starfleet. We had watched them come, this vessel of metal and light, gliding clumsily through our sacred domain. Others avoided this space, sensing the mischief woven into its very essence, but these ones—these ‘Elysium’ travelers—were different. Unknowing, yet bold. Curious, yet fragile.

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Shalith drifted through the corridors, unseen to the limited eyes of the Star-Walkers. Their rigid forms moved about, oblivious, bound to the constraints of mass and form. They were so serious, so consumed with their purpose. It was endearing, in its own way.

With a thought, Shalith reached out, lightly brushing the strange energy grid they called ‘warp core.’ A flicker of light pulsed, a ripple in the structured energy. The one with pointed ears—the one they called T’Vara—paused, her analytical mind sensing the disturbance. But she did not see. Not yet.

The other solid, the younger one, Mendez, reacted with confusion as his console blinked out. Shalith tilted their essence in amusement. Such little things, these Star-Walkers. So sure of their control, yet so easily flustered.

Shalith twined through the network of energy pathways that formed the ship’s nervous system. The solid ones thought of it as technology, but to the Zynari, it was merely another form of current, another way to move and play. With the lightest touch, Shalith shifted connections here and there. Minor things. The turbolifts confused their destinations. The artificial gravity ever so briefly flickered in small pockets. Just enough to unbalance a step, to make the rigid forms of the Star-Walkers pause, frown, and check their readouts. They were aware, now, but they did not yet understand.
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In the chamber of command, where the leader of the Star-Walkers sat in her throne, the Zynari observed with silent delight. The one called Lalor was sharp, her mind quick, but she did not yet understand.

Shalith sent a whisper along the currents of energy. A blink on their sensory displays. A flicker of movement just beyond the edges of perception. A presence that was there—then gone. The humans and their allies stiffened, their primitive instruments struggling to capture what could not be contained.

Amidst the confines of the vessel, the game unfolded.

Doors misaligned, lights dimmed at inconvenient moments, food became altered in humorous ways. One of them—Henshaw, the one with the tired eyes—saw more than most. He had glimpsed the laughter within the reflection, the shape that should not be. A brief moment of clarity, before it faded back into the shifting void.

Elsewhere on the ship, more mischief was at play. In the quarters of one of the younger officers, a neatly folded uniform was found disassembled—boots where the tunic should be, insignia arranged in an odd yet intricate spiral on the floor. In the mess hall, beverages turned vibrant shades of blue and green, emitting a soft glow that had not been present before. The chef scowled, tapping furiously at the replicator control panel, but it continued to produce dishes that giggled when approached.

Shalith and their kin pulsed with joy, observing the strange ones try to rationalize the irrational.
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The one called Dorna was among the first to react with something close to suspicion. Her kind, the protectors of the vessel, were always the most alert to the unknown. She prowled the hallways, her hand resting on the tool she thought would protect her. Shalith rippled in amusement. The solid ones thought their weapons gave them power over the unknown, but what could they do against what they could not touch?

Still, there was something about her. Her instincts were sharp. Perhaps a small challenge was in order.

A corridor dimmed as she stepped inside, shadows stretching unnaturally. A whisper echoed, her own voice repeating words she had not spoken. Dorna stopped, tension radiating through her form.

Shalith flicked the lights back on. Dorna exhaled sharply, shaking her head before muttering a curse. But her suspicion had deepened. Good.
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Shalith withdrew, observing their kin ripple in amusement. “They begin to see.”

“We should let them play a little longer,” whispered Azin, their form coalescing and dispersing like a cosmic tide.

“They are different from others,” Shalith mused. “They are stubborn.”

“They are lost.”

A pause. A hum of agreement.

“Perhaps they need a guide.”

Shalith’s form shimmered, fading into nothingness as the game continued. The Star-Walkers did not know it yet, but the dance had only just begun.

But even among the Zynari, there were different kinds of play. Some enjoyed gentle mischief, mere nudges at reality to make the rigid minds of others widen. Others, however, found deeper amusement in chaos. Far beyond where Shalith played, one such presence stirred.

Vorel, a Zynari of sharper intent, wove through the ship with a different kind of mischief in mind. Where Shalith found joy in confusion, Vorel thrived on reactions, on escalation. A flick of intent sent the environmental controls in the cargo bay into flux, cycling from freezing to humid warmth within seconds. Crew members stumbled, rushing to stabilize systems that had, until now, obeyed their commands.

Vorel watched, delighted. “They react so strongly,” they mused. “So much fear, even for small changes.”

Shalith rippled into existence beside them. “They are fragile,” they warned. “Too much, and they break.”

Vorel twisted their essence in disagreement. “Then perhaps it is time to see where their breaking point lies.”

Shalith observed for a moment longer before withdrawing. There was mischief, and there was cruelty. Vorel danced the line between them, and the game might soon become more than just play.

As the ship’s systems continued their erratic behavior, Commodore Lalor’s frown deepened. Something was happening aboard the Elysium—something beyond mere malfunctions. And if they did not solve the mystery soon, they might find themselves at the mercy of playful gods who did not know the meaning of limits.